


and all at once, this is enough

by phloridas



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, after joining the ranks of coffee addicts, i thought it only fitting to write this piece, these boys are so in love it honestly disgusts me sometimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 03:32:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12903042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phloridas/pseuds/phloridas
Summary: He'll never admit it, but Dan really likes mornings--especially ones where he gets to make Phil coffee.





	and all at once, this is enough

**Author's Note:**

> As a uni commuter this year, I've quickly learned that caffeine is the only acceptable way to get through my 9AM classes--and some of the best mornings are the ones where my mom makes coffee for the both of us. It really is such a sweet gesture, one that I'm sure Dan does for Phil all the time--and thus, this fic was born. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Title comes from King of My Heart by Taylor Swift. (Really, what more do you expect from me at this point?)

There’s something about the mid-morning stillness, the blissful silence of their apartment and the ones around them that settled over Dan like a dog curling up in bed.

Maybe he should start getting up earlier.

Were Phil’s arms not the oasis Dan needed that morning, he might have slid from them a bit easier. It took a reminder of the gorgeous eye crinkles he was sure to earn for Dan to finally press a kiss to the fluffy head under the pillow and lower his feet to the frigid hardwood floor. He made a mental note to turn up the heat. Outside Phil’s loose hold, the duplex was an arctic.

Dan’s coffee tolerance only seemed to decrease with age—and with the deepening of his depression. Crashes hit him hard, expelling the monsters from the darkest corners of his brain, dragging out his movements and his thoughts so that nothing seemed to have purpose anymore. Plus, it messed with his antidepressants, not that he needed them now--but he had become accustomed to a nice herbal tea in the morning.

Phil, though. Dan allowed himself a tiny chuckle as he set the water boiling. A self-proclaimed monster before his caffeine jolt, Phil sometimes needed the strength of two or three cups before he could say anything but a mumbled “Love you,” his drooping blue eyes slowly opening into the oceans Dan could never tire of. Normally a jumbled mess of arms and mugs and hot water in the mornings, today Dan had pushed Phil’s struggling form back down with a whisper that he could handle them both. After glimpsing the Australian Twitter uproar, mit was the least he could do.

So they didn’t have everything together for this tour. The Melbourne venue was taking ages to get back to them (thanks, time zones). Sydney couldn’t agree to their proposed prices. People wanted the trailer long before they bought their tickets, just so they could know what they were about to drop their hard-earned cash on. But Phil and their management both agreed a trailer drop right when tickets went on sale could build up far more hype than one posted three days before. Problem was, Dan could see both sides.

He made a mental note to give Phil an extra shoulder rub when he made his way down here. Goodness knows they both needed it.

For months and months, they held tight to this secret, this project they couldn’t even tell their closest friends lest the truth pour forth before anyone was ready. Each venue confirmation brought a tight hand clasp and a flurry of itinerary planning, mostly from Phil. Questions were repeated over and over like a kind of mantra, _Are you sure you’re alright with being away from home for over half a year?_ and _You’re_ sure _you can juggle this show and your self care routine?_ Confirmations, too, became a refrain, often accompanied by a touch or a squeeze of some sort, the kind that called Dan back to reality in his lowest moments.

“ _Daaannnn._ ” A whispered whine crawled into his ear, settling itself nicely beside the lips that were brushing his cheek. “You know you don’t have to do this. But thank you.”

“Of course I do. How else can I thank someone for giving me the last eight years of their life?”

“Eight years?” If Dan wasn’t awake already, the snatches of breath tickling his neck sure did the trick. “I think you can do a bit better than coffee, babe. Something...furry, perhaps?”

Dan almost poured the scalding pot over his hands. “Are you telling me it’s finally time for your fursuit? I always knew this day would come, Phil!”

“Fuck. Don’t listen to pre-coffee Phil. Furry was the wrong word and you know it.”

“Oh, _was_ it now?”

Phil’s soft morning giggles filled Dan with a kind of joy his medication couldn’t come close to touching. The grabby hands he pulled out when Dan finished pouring his drink (with lactose-free milk and two sugars, of course) were so darn adorable that Dan just had to brush a chaste kiss over Phil’s right temple. He sat down a couple minutes later with his own piping hot tea, scrolling through his phone without really taking anything in. That is, until he opened his email and found an extremely brief message from their Melbourne venue.

“Ph—Phil? I don’t know if you’ve seen yet, but the Melbourne venue, they want...they want us to _fax_ them our details. Who the fuck uses a fax machine anymore?” Dan froze. This wasn’t supposed to happen! All the venues were meant to be ready by _today_ , preferably earlier for the later time zones, before all the tickets were released tomorrow and the real games began. Why the _fuck_ did Australia have to go and screw everything up?

The note of panic in Phil’s eyes was enough to send Dan into an even tighter spiral of anxiety. The second he pushed his coffee away, though, Dan knew he had to push back his intrusive thoughts. He couldn’t stand Phil’s rapid finger-tapping. It reminded him too much of himself.

“Hey, Phil?” Could his voice stop shaking for one _second?_  “Alright, I know this is crazy stressful and Australia is a bunch of twats but you know what? They can’t say no to us. We’ve _got_ that venue and we’re gonna have some incredible shows there. We just have to jump through a few more dumb hoops. I won’t let us disappoint anyone.” He slid a hand across the table, grabbed Phil’s ice cold one in both of his own.

Phil, however, wouldn’t tear his eyes from a particularly dark ring of wood grain. “Are we...are we even gonna sell tickets tomorrow? People know nothing about this show besides your little blurb. And, like, good no spoilers and all but people wanna know what they’re dropping all this quid on. Holy shit, Dan, why did we even go for those giant New York and Columbus venues anyway? We’re just gonna be doing empty shows, nobody’s gonna wanna host a YouTube tour again, we’re gonna be failures…” A hitch of breath, then, “I can’t be a failure, Dan.”

Only for Phil would Dan vacate his breakfast seat before finishing his cereal. Resting his head in its own moulded nook on Phil’s shoulder, Dan reached his arms out from behind to engulf Phil in a hug to absorb his every hurt, his every hint of fear. Clasped hands ran up and down Phil’s bare chest growing ever warmer at Dan’s touch.

When Dan finally spoke, it was in a whisper fiercer than the screams of his anxiety. “You’ll _never_ be a failure to me, Phil. You hear me? Not after everything you’ve given me and millions of others. _Four million_ people want to watch your videos. At least a quarter of them are gonna want to see our show. You need to see these people as much as I do, I know.” He dropped his voice to a gentle needle, nuzzling his chin into Phil’s shoulder for emphasis. “It helps to see the smiling faces behind those tweets and comments, doesn’t it?”

Phil just sighed. The gentle tickle of hair burrowing deeper into Dan’s chest was appreciation enough.

And so they remained for a while, Dan’s fingers kneading through Phil’s shoulders and eliciting the most strung-out of moans that almost made Dan run back upstairs, Phil tight in his arms. But he managed.

Just barely.

“Babe. Your coffee’s gonna get cold. The coffee that _I_ so generously made, by the way.”

A pair of puppy dog eyes almost drew Dan’s hands back to Phil’s shoulders like a magnet. It took a hearty whiff of his tea to return Dan to the black plastic chair across the table.

“Thank you,” Phil murmured after a long gulp. Dan giggled.

“You’ve got some--oh, I’ll get it.” How come coffee tasted a thousand times sweeter when it had dribbled down Phil’s chin?

“You and me, we’re in this for life, yeah?” Dan locked his eyes on Phil, a silent plea for him to pick up on the sincerity in his tone.

The melty eyes and crinkly smile he received in return were better than any Christmas present he was sure to get this year. “Yeah. ‘Course we are.”

A brush of fingers, a hint of pressure. “Netflix after this? I think an hour of mindless TV might be just what we need to get our brains running.”

“I’d love to.” Another long sip, then, “Just don’t forget your training, yeah?”

Dan might have smacked Phil were it not for that stupid soft grin. “Yeah, yeah. Maybe I’ll do yoga today, so you can join me. Exercise can do you way more good than just TV.”

“Oh, al _right_.”

As they packed the dishwasher, a wave of calm crashed over Dan not unlike the one he felt whilst preparing Phil’s coffee earlier.

They’d figure this tour thing out together. No matter what, even if the whole thing flopped and they can’t afford the forever home right away, they’d be at each other’s sides for every second. It was a promise eight years in the making, to be kept for a million more.

And that, Dan knew, was better than any hot drink--even the ones Phil so carefully brewed for him in his own darkest hours.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr/Twitter: @phloridas
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and I hope your day/night is just as sweet as Phil's coffee because you deserve it. Happy gamingmas!


End file.
